I'm Not Laughing
by Miz. Jynx
Summary: Batman got angry. Bullet proof glass isn't Batman proof. And the Joker's at the end of his rope. Sometimes people forget, he's only human. And humans die.


Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or the wonderful Joker. If that isn't utterly obvious than you my good sir/mam are an idiot.

**Warning: Death, blood, murder, and angst.**

**I'm Not Laughing**

The glass shattered upon impact sending thousands of shards flying through the air, some embedding themselves in his back leaving trails of blood to splatter to the floor. Batman was angry, so angry in fact he was willing to put this man in a coma if it ment getting the information he wanted. He watched with bitter hatred as the Joker collapsed ungracefully onto the floor on the other side of the destroyed two-way mirror, small chuckles mixing in with pained filled groans.

"Tell me were they are!" Batman yelled, though it came out more of a feral roar. Never the less the Joker understood him, he always did. To the few people now sharing the room with him it might of sounded like furious gibberish but he knew. He always knew. He could hear him, even if he refused to speak. They understood each other, even if the oh so righteous Batman didn't want to admit it.

So now, he knew that the Batman knew that he was in pain. A lot of pain. He lay there in a growing puddle of his own blood, his back impaled with hundreds of broken bullet proof glass. Bullet proof, not Batman proof. He squeezed his eyes shut against a sharp searing pain that shot through his chest and left leg, it seemed a jagged shard had sliced through his calf, from the back of his knee to his heel he assumed.

"What's the time?" He gasped out, more sticky blood clogging his throat.

"What does that have to do with anything?" The Bat growled out, as if his throat was sore.

The Joker chuckled deeply and spit out the growing puddle of blood from his scared mouth. "Weellll, depending on the time, they could be in one spot or several." His eyes gleamed mischievously as he resisted the urge to scrunch his face up in agony when another hot wave of pain pulsed through his body.

So far the onlookers had been silent, merely observing the events unfolding before their eyes. Not one made a move to stop the vigilante who had climbed over the wall separating them and towered above the pitiful heap of man that was the Joker, the scowl never leaving his lips and a low rumbling in his chest slowly sounding more and more like a fury filled growl with each passing second.

"Don't play games with me Joker. Tell. Me. Where. They. Are." Leather gloves making a choked squeaking noise as he clenched his fists tighter.

The Joker pushed himself against the wall but only succeeded in propping his head up though it had the desired effect: A better view at the rooms occupants and most importantly his favorite bat. The rest of his body laid spread out limply on the floor, remaining clothes torn and covered in dark sticky blood.

"Or what? You'll **hit **me some more? I tell ya, you really have to work on your people skills, you sound like a spoiled brat who didn't get what he wanted from the toy store." He let out a high pitched laugh that soon became a 'choke hack cough' when more life blood rose from his lungs. Breathing had become a painful struggle to breath ever since the Batman broke a couple of his ribs a little under a few minutes ago and he was sure at least one of them had punctured a lung. Less and less air was reaching his lungs with the passing seconds.

"**Enough**! Tell me were they are Joker!" The Bat stomped forward and grabbed the bleeding clown by the lapels of his shirt, hoisting him upward and eye level with his cowl.

The Joker winced at the sudden movement and felt the broken parts of his body jostle and sway as he hung limply from the masked mans fist, feet just a little over an inch off the ground. He took a quick glance at the clock on the wall some ways to his left before smiling and staring into the larger mans shrouded eyes.

"Ya know Bats, you really are blind as a bat, you know that?" The jester remarked seemingly offhandedly. Batman scoffed and promptly dropped the Joker to the ground where he landed as a broken heap on the ground.

Joker bit his lip to contain a pain filled groan but otherwise showed no outward sign of discomfort and continued. "You wont kill me yet you have no problem beating me into such _-cough- _a bloodied pulp, that I die on my own." He took in a few strained breaths. "You can't see what's presented to you, in literally such plain sight, a blind man would know its there. You **forget**. You can't **see**." He stopped for a short hack-cough, spitting more blood to the floor beside him. "Under that cowl, the armor, the stupid cape…your human. And you **forget **that passed the scars, makeup, and suit…I am too."

The room was frozen silent by his few pained words, the truth in them. No one, not even the Batman, dared say a thing.

"I'm not immortal. I'm not a clown. I'm not even all that homicidal. To be honest, I just like watching things burn... But what I **am** is alive…for now." His head began to spin and the room had started to fade along with the life in his dark green eyes. Uninjured fingers twitched occasionally, the only sign besides his shallow breathing that he was still alive.

"You've killed me Bats." He mumbled in blissful agony. "You forgot the obvious truth that I, like your 'innocent' little citizens, am **human**. And you've killed me. Pushed my weak little body over the edge, and now I'm falling. I doubt even your pretty little wings could save me now." He chuckled thickly. "I gotta say, it's been fun." he began to hum softly, with no particular tune before continuing. "Life's a big joke ya know... Sad part is, deaths the punch line. It's supposed to be funny, right?" He stared up at the ceiling for some long, empty seconds. "But, ya know…" Blood stopped flowing from his wounds, his shallow breathing slowed while agonizing pain faded into nothing.

"I'm not laughing."

No body moved. Not for the longest time. Each person waiting, watching for any sign that the mangled body of a man in front of them was still alive. That it was just a joke. A sick, twisted, and impossibly elaborate joke that the one and only **Joker **was playing on them. But he never moved.

It wasn't until a uniformed cop burst through the door to the room shouting franticly about two seemingly unimportant buildings blowing up that they peeled their eyes away from the bloody scene in front of them. The Commissioner snapped his head up to stare disbelievingly at the cop in the door way, shock evident in his eyes. From the event before him or the sudden news he would never know. His mind was hazy with disbelief as he mumbled a half-minded order to the cop sending him on his way before gesturing to the others in the room to follow him out, leaving the Batman standing in an empty, lifeless room. Alone.

The 'tragedy' of the Jokers death sent a wave of celebration throughout Gotham. People cheered, threw parties, and drank 'till they couldn't tell shit from apple sauce. But the city was not a better place. It became worse. Criminals and mobs that once cowered under the twisted grin of the Joker sprang into action upon learning the news of his death, or rather, murder.

The city's Batman was held responsible for the death The Joker. Seeing the bat at night - or any time for that matter, became a very rare sight. According to a semi-reliable source, Bruce Wayne holed himself up in his pent house for months on end, never once leavening for anything and relying on his butler to get the necessary items for survival. People assumed he was simply depressed about the recent loss of Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes who were both lost in separate but related explosions conducted by the Joker. Others let their imagination wander and were told by local authorities and physiatrists alike to get some rest after claiming the possibility of Bruce Wayne being the actual identity of the murdering bat.

The Jokers identity was never discovered and remains one of the cities most unsettling mysteries to this day. He was buried in Arkham Asylums massive graveyard on September 3, 2009. Two people attended his funeral. Commissioner James Gordon and the local minister.

His tombstone read:

_Here lies a man known as 'The Joker'._

_May the lord take pity on his soul._

_R.I.P_

_?-2009_

At the bottom of the stone, the last line, read his own famous last words. Beside it was a crudely carved smile.

"_I'm not laughing."_

**Authors Notes**

Written around four in the morning so don't kill me. I re-read it and decided 'what the hell' and posted it. This is not a tribute to Heath Ledgers death(may he rest in peace) and I realized towards the end it kinda sounded like that. Takes place around the interrogation scene. I know its nearly impossible to shatter bullet proof glass with nothing more than a strong arm and a body but bare with me. It **was** four in the morning after all. lol ^^

Please **Review**!

Love and Straightjackets,

Miz. Jynx


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